


Just a Lonely Day

by somanyopentabs



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: M/M, PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-16
Updated: 2012-04-16
Packaged: 2017-11-03 18:41:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/384603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/somanyopentabs/pseuds/somanyopentabs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint's just looking for a hook-up to relieve some tension, but why go out when he can stay in?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just a Lonely Day

Clint had a wretched day in the field, and when it was all over he didn’t feel any better. He was just worn and bruised enough to feel horrid, but well enough to skip out of medical and head up to the tower with minimal hassling. He went straight for the shower and nearly scrubbed himself raw, but he didn’t care. Every muscle in his body felt abused, and even his teeth seemed to ache, which was ridiculous. But even through the dull pain, not the worst he’d ever felt, not by a long way—even through the discomfort, he felt himself getting hard in the shower, the hot water feeling divine as it sluiced down his shoulders and the backs of his legs.

He thought about just taking care of it himself, but something about the idea of having another solitary orgasm—he couldn’t remember the last time he’d gotten off with a partner, and that was just unfair--didn’t sit right. He felt edgy and stubborn, and getting himself off perfunctory and alone wasn’t going to cut it. He stepped out of the shower and quickly toweled off. Maybe he could try his luck in a bar? Clint hated bars, ever since his identity as an Avenger had gone public, but maybe he’d run into someone who didn’t know his face like a national brand symbol. It could happen. He was ready to try anything at this point. He needed release, needed to sooth the tension away.

He dressed casually, just some faded denim jeans that he’d had since forever, and a comfortable tank top. He was thinking a gay bar might do the trick, and it never hurt to show off his arms in places like that.

The last step was slicking his hair with some gel—a habit that Natasha made fun of him endlessly for, but not in front of the others, so it was all right.

He took a deep breath and walked into the hallway. Truth be told, he wasn’t much for hook-ups. It was only that he was getting a bit desperate, with only his hand for company these last few months, and he missed the feeling of another body pressed to his. He didn’t just miss sex, either. He missed the whole shebang, the kissing and everything. He’d known, when he’d signed up for Fury’s whole spiel, that there wouldn’t be time for personal relationships. There was barely time for personal _anything_ , to be honest. So, if a hook-up was the best he could do, he’d take that. If he couldn’t find anyone who didn’t immediately recognize him as ‘one of those crazy people from the news’, then he supposed he could come back here and watch some porn or something. He was sure Tony would have a decent selection, anyway.

Ah, think of the devil...

“Hey, Clint. Where’re you going dressed like that?” Tony, who was just passing him in the hallway, had looked up from his tablet to practically undress Clint with his eyes. Not that Clint was wearing so much that it was any great feat.

“Where do you think?” Clint deflected. It wasn’t as if he was ashamed to be going out, but it was also a little humiliating, because Tony Stark didn’t have to go to bars to pick anyone up. He probably had a hundred models on speed-dial anytime he wanted, with maybe a hundred more waiting in a queue.

“Looks like you’re headed out for some fun. Did I hit the mark?” Tony raised his eyebrows, and Clint ignored Tony’s awful pun, as usual.

“Fuck off, Stark.” Clint moved to go past him, but Tony stepped in front of him and smirked.

“Steve says we’re supposed to play nice together. Don’t make me tattle on you.”

Clint groaned in exasperation. The whole thing between Steve and Tony had just reached the ‘let’s see how far we can push each other without actually throwing any punches’ stage, and it mostly relied on passive aggression. “You wanna pull on Cap’s pigtails, Stark, you leave me out of it.”

“You’re no fun.” Tony still wasn’t moving out of the way, and his eyes were drifting over Clint’s body without remorse.

“You only think that because you’ve never played with me. Still upset you don’t get invited to me and Tasha’s sleepovers?”

Tony frowned, and Clint considered that a victory. Even though, if Tony found out the truth about what he and Tasha actually did when they shared a room _platonically_ \--mostly watched movies, gossiped, and had pillow fights—he knew he’d be in for a world of mocking. He doubted Natasha would let that slip, though. She enjoyed getting away from the rest of the team for a while far too much to care whether any of them thought they were fucking.

“Didn’t think you swung that way. Or is it okay if it’s in a threeway?” Tony countered finally, with a grin.

“You’ve got too much time on your hands if you can make pop culture references like that.”

“I was teaching Thor about Saturday Night Live,” Tony said defensively. 

“Sure you were.” Clint wondered whether it was worth it to go out at all, now. Maybe he should just admit defeat and slink back to his room, because wherever he chose to go now, Tony was sure to be too curious not to have him trailed. He didn’t need Tony declaring to the world that Clint was feeling cheap enough to be taken with a drink and a smile.

Unsettlingly, Tony shrugged, patted him on the shoulder and said, “Well, whatever. Have fun.”

Clint blinked in confusion as Tony started to walk away. He felt even worse, now. Everything just kept making him feel worse. Not quite sure knowing why, he called out, “I do, by the way. There’s nothing wrong with it, so I hope you don’t have a problem.”

Tony turned back around to face him. “What?”

“You, uh,” Clint said, feeling less confident now that he had put himself on the spot. “You asked if I swung that way. I do. No big deal, though.”

“Right.” Tony got a look in his eyes, then, one that Clint couldn’t quite decipher. It wasn’t until Tony was standing directly in front of him again, looking him right in the eyes, lifting a hand to place suggestively on Clint’s arm, that Clint realized that Tony Stark was _flirting with him_.

“I didn’t know that you—what about Pepper?”

“We’re not...not right now, anyway. Natasha?”

Clint shook his head in the negative. “We’re just friends. She’ll kill you if you hurt me, though,” Clint said, only half-joking.

Tony laughed anyway, the cocky bastard, and pushed Clint up against the wall to kiss him. He worked a leg in between Clint’s, and soon Clint was rocking back and forth, grinding against him shamelessly as Tony kissed him, hard, with just enough tongue to make the kisses downright _filthy_. Clint would have expected nothing less.

“Come on,” Tony said, pulling away without warning and leaving Clint gasping and feeling too easy in his position braced against the wall for support. Tony grabbed his hand and pulled them both into the closest room, which happened to be one of Tony’s offices.

There was a perfectly serviceable desk, and that was where they ended up, with Tony pushing him against it and kissing him again, sucking on his lower lip and generally being a tease. Clint was stronger than Tony by a fair bit, and knew he could turn the tables at any time, but damned if being manhandled didn’t feel fucking perfect.

It wasn’t too long, then, before Tony began divesting him of clothes, lifting his tank top over his head to bare his chest. Clint worked at the buttons on Tony’s shirt, but with the way Tony was touching him, letting his hands wander all over his chest and then down to grab his ass without hesitation, soon Clint was begging for it, telling Tony to just do it, do something, give him whatever he wants. Tony bit at the lobe of his ear and then whispered, asking Clint if he wanted to be fucked. And yes, _yes_ , that was a perfect plan, of course Clint wanted to be fucked, _just get on with it already_.

Clint needed it hard and rough, needed to feel worn out and wrecked and used, so that’s what he asked for, begged for, as Tony bent him over, peeling off the rest of his clothes until his pants and boxers are lying in a puddle at his combat boot clad feet. Tony gave him a playful smack on the ass, making Clint gasp in pleasure, as Tony wrenched open a desk drawer to procure lube and a condom. It didn’t surprise Clint in the slightest that Tony kept that kind of stuff in his office; he wouldn’t have gone along with this in the first place if he didn’t think that he’d make it good for both of them.

“Yeah, you just tell me what you need, baby,” Tony said as he pushed slick fingers inside of him, wringing another gasp and a moan from Clint.

“Just need you to fuck me. Now.” Clint appreciated Tony’s efforts at dirty talk, but right then and there, all he needed was Tony’s dick inside of him, fucking into him fast and hard.

Gratifyingly, he quickly felt Tony pull his fingers out and then the press of his cock up against him, lining up against his entrance.

“You don’t have to go slow,” Clint breathed out as Tony pushed in steadily, the sweet slide of it making Clint’s knees nearly buckle against the solidity of the desk.

“Yeah? Gonna make you feel so good,” Tony said, his voice sounding ragged. He pushed all of the way in with one last, sharp little shove.

“Oh,” Clint groaned involuntarily.

“You like it fast, babe?” Tony’s hands gripped Clint’s thighs as he gave an experimental little thrust.

“Please,” Clint gritted out, starting to feel desperate. He cushioned his forehead on one arm and then snaked his other hand down in between his legs to squeeze himself. He was hard enough now that he was leaking precome everywhere, and when Tony thrust again, it was almost unbearable. “Tony, fuck me.”

Tony pulled out a little, smacked his ass again, and then shoved back in quick enough to make Clint moan and widen his stance a little, wanting more. After that, Tony began to pick up the pace, fucking Clint in swift, hard, slick strokes. In no time at all, it was as if every thrust was hitting Clint’s sweet spot, and he was growing more and more desperate, working his hand on his dick and sweating profusely all over the desk. He felt burning hot, like there was only so much more he could take. Somehow, Tony managed to pick up the pace even further, pounding his ass so exquisitely that all Clint could do was to _take_ it, letting his other hand slap back on the desk and then reach up so both hands could grip the edge.

Tony, that magnificent, insufferable, beautiful bastard, reached around and jerked Clint’s prick in time with his thrusts. It was so undeniably perfect; Clint could have wept in pleasure.

“Gonna come for me, babe?” Tony asked, giving Clint a particularly hard shove and a sharp jerk of his wrist.

“Fuck—yeah, I’m gonna—I’m gonna—“ Clint came _beautifully_ , achingly hard into Tony’s hand, feeling every inch of that cock up his ass and loving it.

He was blissed out, wonderfully wrung out as Tony finished with him and then pulled out, taking off the condom to toss in the trash.

Clint stayed collapsed on the desk for a few moments before picking himself up and gathering his wits and his clothes. Tony was already looking nearly pristine—of course, he probably did this sort of thing every day, probably fucked someone or got his dick sucked right before press conferences and still showed up looking like a rich and perfectly-pressed jerk.

Tony grinned at him, no doubt smug about the way Clint’s skin was flushed, his hair and clothes disheveled as if he hadn’t just showered not even an hour ago.

“Shut up,” Clint said good-naturedly before Tony could say anything.

Tony’s smile merely brightened. “Someone’s in a good mood. Wonder why that could be?”

“Get fucked, Tony.” Clint pulled his shirt back on and tried to hide his own grin that would betray his words.

“Maybe next time.” Tony picked up his tablet, which had miraculously ended up safely on a nearby chair, and walked toward the door.

“Yeah, you’d like that too much.” Clint wasn’t sure exactly where they stood, but he couldn’t deny that had been the best sex he’d had in—months, really.

Tony laughed, that smug, rich bastard with a little bit of sex god thrown in for good measure kind of laugh. “You know where to find me, Clint. Later, if you want. Now go get yourself cleaned up.”

Clint flipped Tony off as he left, and then headed back to his own room, feeling well-fucked and damn cheerful, as it turned out.


End file.
